Random Thoughts
by RevCorby
Summary: What happens when a magical person never finds out, and continues to live as a Muggle? A cutesy little one-shot I wrote with a brief cameo at the end.


I was walking down the street minding my own business, when suddenly, I looked up and realized that something wasn't right. At first I wasn't sure what it was, but it seemed like something was tugging at the edge of my thoughts. I looked around, and realized that I was much further down the block than I should have been for how long it seemed I had been walking. I looked at my watch, and it read almost ten minutes later than it should have. I distinctly remembered walking out of the store I work at about five minutes ago, yet my watch says that it was closer to fifteen minutes ago. The very strange thing, is that my distance from work indicates that I was only walking for about ten minutes. So somewhere back there, I lost five minutes of walking, and five minutes of something else. I am a very introspective person, for a teenage girl, so this lapse of memory troubled me greatly. I had nothing else to do so, I decided to backtrack my path, and investigate. I turned around, and started back towards the pub. After about 3 minutes of walking, I stopped. Something here was making the tugging at my thoughts stronger. I saw a small alcove in between two buildings to my left, where a small garden had been cultivated. There were two concrete benches facing each other, yet turned away from the street. Likely so that people wouldn't have to watch the lorries driving by. I stepped hesitantly into the alcove. I could tell that something had happened here. There was a slight smell of blood, and burnt hair in the air, and on of the bushes had a dip in the top, as if someone had fallen into it. There was a charge in the air that I couldn't identify, but it somehow seemed familiar. I sat down on one of the benches to think for a minute. Had someone been attacked? Had I been attacked? Had I attacked someone? Had I even been involved, or just a witness? If any of these were true, why couldn't I remember? As I sat there, I started getting random thoughts, some as images, some as sounds, some as smells...just bouncing around my mind. A person in black. A white mask. A flash of green light. A scream. A shout. Feet running. Someone yelling. Disjointed words. "ministry...avada...reduct...stop...muggle...obliviate." My head started pounding. What did all of this mean? What ministry? What do those other words mean? Who screamed? Was it me? I remember the sound of my heels striking the sidewalk. The feel of sweat pouring down my face, yet my face and clothes were dry. I don't know what these images mean. I started rooting around in the bushes, trying to find anything that may clear up my confusion. My hand touched a piece of wood that didn't feel like a normal stick or branch. I was unsure of what it was, so I got a napkin from my purse and picked up the thing without touching it. It looked like a carved conductor's baton, but it was all wood, and bigger around. It appeared to be ebony. There were some markings carved into it that I didn't recognize, but as I looked it over, I realized that this was in my rather muddled memory. I sat back down on the bench and placed the carved stick in my lap. I stared at it for several minutes, willing the memories to come forth. I caught a vague, almost foggy image or the person on black pointing at me, almost like a gun. The tip of it glowed green for a moment, then the person in black was thrown back by something I couldn't see. The stick started to glow slightly as I stared at it, so faint that I wondered if I was seeing things. I felt my hand move towards it, almost on it's own. I picked it up at the thicker end, and as soon as my hand closed around it, I felt a warmth flow through me as if I had just swallowed and entire cup of hot tea. The glowing became stronger, and a few small gold sparks flew off the tip. I dropped it like I had been scalded and jumped back off the bench. I heard a muffled 'pop' behind me, and turned around. There was a tall, very cute red-headed man standing there. He was close enough for me to reach out and touch him, yet there had been no one there a second ago. He was wearing a long cloak that seemed very out of place. He looked down at me and smiled a very kind smile.

"My name is Ron Weasley, and I am here to help..."


End file.
